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Cry-Wolf by Tones, Raven
Cry Wolf by DeBattista, Carlos
Cry Wolf by bridge, stan

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The Best Cry Wolf Poems

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Rain and Rain and More Rain

On August 29, 2005, the "Rain and Rain and more Rains came", destroying everything we had worked a lifetime for. My home that we had just finished building, one year ago, all our furniture, keepsakes, irreplaceable cherished photos along with all our cars except the one we were driving.

The only thing remaining was our boat, "Akula" who suffered a football size hole just above her waterline. I remain grateful that her batteries were charged well enough to continue to bail her out for two consecutive weeks. These rains came in the wrath of a lady named, "Katrina." "Akula" means shark and it would take a shark to make it through this.

I remember I did not cry like others in my neighborhood. I felt it was just a home which could be rebuilt. I also know it did not completely destroy Akula or I would have cried. There's something about a man's boat that befits both sexes and that something is called "Real Love."

Aboard 'Akula" along with the Red Cross, we managed to feed the neighbors for weeks on end. You don't need to know about the multitude of snakes that were inside my house hiding in closets waiting to strike or the wild hogs that were blown in, eating from the plentiful tossed out refrigerators.

All you need to know is that the people were not lazy The only reason they did not leave is because all of us have heard "Cry Wolf" so many times that when a Hurricane threatens it's just an excuse for a red Solo cup party. Simply put: If anyone had known they would die they would not have stayed.

A few weeks later with communication restored we learned that two of our friends drowned, one in Bay St Louis, MS and the other in Biloxi. I didn't cry. Feelings are neither right nor wrong, they just are....

Francine's Rain - contest

5/25/13

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

The Wolf at the Door

Kruger Rands and investments galore 
Very expensive pension plan bought
An impressive portfolio thus wrought 
This all to keep the wolf from the door

Penny pinching and just scraping by
School fees paid and bond payments met
Over our taxes due we often fret
“Cry wolf”, told when inflation we decry

Too old to work, too young to retire
Inflation has halved my daily bread
Not a nickel to spare for a spread
Bank manager, wolf in sheep’s attire

So, when Wolf comes knocking at the door
Twelve bore’s loaded, we’re the new splinter
The stew should see us through the winter
Wolf at the door is a typical boor

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Trust Thrust

There is no mental telepathy between this union;
Because I guess the lack fallopian tubes in that pot belly that never feeds
Cut the tunnel of our communication till the only ocean view we have of each ‘worlds 
is the sea men:
Testosterone, the test we are on where your manhood dangles while 
Responsibility passes you by.
As if it did not oil its muscles while she came in the form of pleasure
Not that there is much to measure because what quickly comes only knows how to 
go
Hiding in the folds of she who holds no cause
Inside her you spray your insidious seed and she screams bounty harvest
While flat on her back the only world she has ever known you've ripped apart
But then again you claim to be a healer;
Why then protect this world when you stealthily slipped in and diagnosed the cause
It is her naivety that is wrong with her
She should have practiced before she met perfect
She cannot claim that one thrust knows how to penetrate
Her morals are obviously too high-men cannot jump over that hurdle
Why then cry wolf when our trust merely thrust itself in and out?
Besides months have passed by since the last medical visit
So January’s coming cannot be the effect of my healing
One appointment cannot give a curing of the womb
So I will take it to my tomb that this is not my miracle
So weep all you want Responsibility;
After the pull out there is no re-connection not even a recollection
One bite from your apple Eve can never be my salvation!

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Director's Cut And Paste

When a stranger calls

a star is born

within these walls

the shining

city lights

die hard

the searchers

don't look now

behind enemy lines

I walk the line

out of the past

roots

where the red fern grows

in cold blood

of mice and men

while you were sleeping

jaws

follow me quietly

home alone

where the sidewalk ends

forks over knives

shattered

where the heart is

frozen

dark eyes

guess who's coming to dinner

the day after tomorrow

the silence of the lambs

never cry wolf

in the heat of the night

my fair lady

dances with wolves

singin' in the rain

the illusionist

expelled

grease

cast away

what lies beneath

the notebook

can't buy me love

without leaving a forwarding address

back to the future

titanic

cries and whispers

tell them willie boy is here

from now to eternity

wild hearts can't be broken

before night falls

sense and sensibility

climb an angry mountain

to kill a mockingbird

we were soldiers

following

a beautiful mind

without a paddle

for love

the birds

take the lead

a river runs through it

one flew over the cuckoo's nest

when the cat's away

the mailman always rings twice

with a clean face

the empire strikes back

with a kodak

footsteps in the fog

paint your wagon

fifty shades of grey

for a little more money

great expectations

reign over me

boys don't cry

with your permission

save the last dance

for your eyes only

three men and a baby

cry for the strangers

gone with the wind

to have and have not

places in the heart

return to me

where or when

pride and prejudice

ran

to catch a thief

like water for chocolate

stolen kisses

smile

on the beach

it's a wonderful life.

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

WOOL


   Don't ever be, dyed in the wool,  be wise
   Against anyone, who's always spinning yarns.
   To them it's just another game, to pull wool over eyes.
   As every time that they cry wolf, it's always false alarms.
   For a wolf will wear sheep's clothing, to catch you by surprise.

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

SECOND BIRTH

What can I do? I’m helpless
Witches are stuffing my brain with straw
Pernicious thoughts raining spurious angels-
Sons of bloodsheds, their beautiful faces
Wait for a cab sailing to perdition.

My organs are atrophied as head swells
Like a big bug, spreading its wings and ejecting
Bad fumes on the inebriate city malls, and
 Levitates between yes and no
Sorry, from today, on principle, I’m your foe
Sorry, I must kill you, my chips dictate so.

I ‘m duped by Macbeth’s witches, I have
Killed Banquo on a barren heath to fulfill their
Prophesies; strange delusions release their
Sperms in my innards to fructify evil plan
To stop the future coming on the earth-face
To stop the riverflow, to stop the human grace.

 I am barren, nothing restricts me to kill
Grenades command me, bullets demand dues
Missiles fall like crackers at the wedding
I have sinned, nukes cry wolf, battalions move
I have sinned, birds lose nest, babies mother
I have to shoot the first shadow of my father
I have sinned; I have to blast my twin brother.

What can I do? I’m helpless
Girls are ravaged by squiggling worms 
Widowed Cats are seeking hearth
I have sinned, world waits a second birth.

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Cry Wolf

Cry Wolf

Searchingly,
I peered into your sky painted eyes
without fully understanding what I might find,
but finding that which I might never fully understand.
And now,
My heart is adrift,
like flotsam ,hopelessly adrift.
And the wind that blows is cold,
and the wind that blows is heartless.
And it is governed by circumstance and prejudice,
and fear and scorn and anger and regret and guilt.
And yet more fear, more scorn, more and more of all
that we are not.
But alas, as sheep we must follow that dark shepherd,
though in truth he be but the piper and we be but mice.
We can see the sun setting beyond the jagged headland.
We can smell the sharp scent of the seas.
We can feel its’ cold, cutting spray on our faces.
We can feel the ghastly chill crawling up towards us.
All these things we know, yet still we follow
like sheep and mice.

But Oh, were I but a Wolf.
Then gladly would I hold you as my Moon!
More beautiful than the stars.
Brighter than the sun when the sky is day, 
but only to me that gladly shuns the sun.
Oh to be as the wolf, you my Moon,
Smiling, taunting, mocking me,
Unreachable, untouchable, unapproachable,
But There! There and always there for me to sing to
To rage to, to cry, to howl,  to weep to and to sing to, there, there,
There; mine though not mine but there for me.
But in truth I am as the Wolf,
And my world is now a heartless Tundra.
I that must thread over ices chill,
through vast open meadows that end only in sky, 
ending where they first began, leading me nowhere.
Threading over vast empty spaces yet going nowhere,
For I am a searching soul,

I am a Wolf,
Searching for a moon that no longer shines,
But rather stands painted in a sky tainted by the sallow
Glow of her own dim indifference.
Like the liar’s moon she sits 
guarded behind the ethereal shawl 
Of her self spawned convictions.
Safe, safe in the false notion of  numbness.
Safe in a sanctuary of  rosebud expectancy.
Awaiting only the rising of the Sun,
Hoping that with  the Sun, she may relieve herself of the sky,
So that the searching Beast might search for her no more,
yet not realizing that only by searching,
might  He find himself,
And only by gracing the darkness of his heavens,
may She, the Moon know the true joy of  full purpose.
For it is purpose which nourishes the human soul.
It is the mead of the spirit, like soil to the seed,
sunlight and rain to the sapling oak
that must needs grow to the heavens.
For what is love other then a fullness of purpose?
The will to surrender all for but a smile,
A willingness to waste away knowing
That the reward shall be but a sparkle
In a beloved eye.

I am a Wolf.
You are my Moon, and forever shall it be so.
But I will not lay claim to love,
for that I have done before though rashly.
Foolishly and perhaps too eagerly,
When as yet too young, too little knowing of
That which too little understanding,
I was too little in giving, giving too little,
If little more then none at all.
Bur this I can say, and shall say, as must say
with full conviction. With an open mind,
A clear heart and a soul all for you to,
hold, to heal and if you will to scorn!

I am a Wolf,
And you hold within yourself
The fullness of my purpose.
In you I am completely complete,
So completely dazzled by you as to 
Stand in complete wonder of you,
A smile on my face, a tear in my heart,
A river in my soul, though around me be only
the cold, barren mountains. 
Above me,
Only the starless sky,
Within me,
But a longing for the Moon.

Carlos
31/08/01

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

The Candlesticks

THE TWO CANDLESTICKS
STANDING BEFORE GOD.
EXPOSING THE HEINOUS WAYS OF THE FALLEN ONES.
STANDING IN THE GAP BETWEEN THE SINFUL WORLD AND THE BRIDGE TO SALVATION.
CRUSHING THE RELICS OF OLD.
OBLITERATING THE SMOKESCREEN AND CALLING DOWN THE GLORY OF HEAVEN.
OFFERING A SOLUTION TO THE POLLUTION FROM HELL BELOW.
JUST BEGINNING TO SCRATCH ITS SURFACE BEFORE THE CAVERNS OF DEEP COLLAPSE UPON THEMSELVES.
NOWHERE TO CRY WOLF FOR THOSE DEMONS!
THEIR MASTER WON'T HELP THEM.
DEFEATED A COUPLE THOUSAND YEARS AGO BY THE SAVIOR OF THE HUMAN RACE.

THE CANDLESTICKS...
THE FINAL PLAN OF HIS AMAZING GRACE.


CALLING ALL NATIONS TO REPENT FOR THE DAY OF THE LORD IS AT HAND! REPENT AND PREPARE THE WAY FOR THE KING OF GLORY!
MAKE HIS PATHS CLEAR. 
STRAIGHTEN UP YOUR LIVES AND LIVE IN RIGHTEOUSNESS AND HOLINESS WHILE THERE IS STILL TIME.

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Cry-Wolf

You yell for help yet nothing wrong

Scream for help but no-one shows

Maybe one day you will understand

Your calls for help have been used up

No-one believes you when you make a claim

You ruined what you once had it ran away from your lies

What will you do when everyone dies

No-one wants to hear your stories

Tiring tales of make believe 

Realizing your no more then a dream

For you are what you speak

Your a dream, imaginary 

An emotional game of hide and seek

What will you do now that the wolf has escaped

Tearing open everything in it's way

Had you been more true to me

I would have shown more empathy 

You brought me life, but directionless 

You make others lives feel meaningless

Now all there is left to do

Is feed your fears, the wolfs waiting for you

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Cry Wolf

Ive taken the tablets but dont want to die
It wasnt for real just a desperate cry
The medication hits me i fall to the ground
It shouldnt be this quick i was supposed to be found
But ive taken to many and a muscle i cant move
Why have i done this and what does it prove
Im slipping away now and never felt so alone
But i cant get help i cant reach for the phone
But.......no matter now as i feel deaths icy grip
And into the darkness of oblivion i slip

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

The game of drive Troy Crazy

Never stop even when i say i said
when i signed up
and no matter what 
never give me my money back
oh boy do i ever miss my lazy boy and couch now

Just how far would one boy go to proove to his social class
grade seven that yes indeed we live
in a dictatorship
and free democracy is the same thing
thus the fad i am 

the game i have become
mainstream which cannot be lost
cannot be won
the game of drive troy crazy

Some play as though they need to disagree with everything i do and say
some play as though they have to thwart my every attempt at love
some play as though there is a prize to be won and they win it and im not allowed 
to ever win
some play as though they must make sure i fail at everything
oh the drama and how my life is a show
and no one must tell me 
say it isnt so

prove to me im not god i say
yellow blue green
orange yellow black
and start again in the fashion idustry pof pink plaids and ducky yellows
sing to me my names of games for i am your ultimate weapon of psychology and 
god
going to the mental institute to prove they are brainwashed not crazy
and the jig is truly up
did hitler really lose the war
and has the tricked message been sent 
or am i fooling myself?

or should i sit here and cry wolf as the papparazzi in control of the propoganda
threatens the psyxchiatrists
and ths the game of drive troy crazy must go on
andf the boot camp torture nightmare goes on forever

YES YOU FOOLS
i know exactly what i am
and i am proud to have made it this far
to round four


some mess with my head as if they can hear my thoughts
everything bad happens to my friends
and my enemies are all well off
but oh what a wonderfull object to crave i have become as i scream and beg and 
plead on the internet for amnesty
that even mensa geniuses cant figure out
for the game of drive Troy crazy is far too much fun!!!!

so now the tables have turned
and youre eventually going to realise who i am 
and what wolves are circling around me
and the nonexistant crimescenes i point at
welcome back to level on eof how we can all belong
of drive troy crazy
and prove to him he isnt god
and no there is nothing there in the spelling mistakes written in english jibberish
but perhaps piglattin japanese if you were smart enough to figure that one out

Details | Cry Wolf Poem |

Director's Cut And Paste, Revisited, part 2

When a stranger calls,
the shining
city lights
die hard
behind enemy lines.

I walk the line
out of the past
roots,
where the red fern grows
in cold blood
of mice and men.

The thin red line
short cuts
a nightmare on Elm Street.
The searchers
don't look now,
within these walls.

In the heat of the night,
the Illusionist
cast away
titanic
cries and whispers.

The silence of the lambs
never cry wolf,
while you were sleeping.

(Each line is a separate movie title.)